


My Mask and Your Forgiveness

by youthofpandas



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Post Timeskip, Post War, based off the Felix and Leonie ending, clowns but make it angsty, homoerotic makeup application, mostly serious this time I promise, non blue lions path, rates T bc Sylvain is horny for like 2 sentences, that makes it sound like it’s all joke but it’s not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youthofpandas/pseuds/youthofpandas
Summary: It’s been years after the war and Sylvain and Felix haven’t seen each other once in all that time. Chance has reunited them and things aren’t how they used to be, the only constant is that Sylvain is still in love and Felix is just as grumpy as ever. Being so close to him makes him remember that they can never go back to the past and that the mask he wears was never meant to last this long.





	My Mask and Your Forgiveness

Felix was biting his lip in concentration and it’s all Sylvain could think about. It had been three long, torturous years since he had last seen the man before him, and he had forgotten how easily his thoughts would shut down at being in such close proximity to him. It was near impossible to force his eyes to look away from the mouth he would kill a man – and oh, how he has killed so many before to ensure Felix’s safety before, this would be no different – just to be allowed to brush his own over them in a fleeting kiss, but he did. Now he found himself looking into golden eyes, whose color flickered from a dark near brown to a bright spark of true gold with the candle light, that had haunted his dreams ever since the war began so long ago. Felix was always in his dreams, sometimes giving his little half smile at a joke and sometimes bleeding to death in his arms. He believed Felix was dead until just a week ago and here he was: not only alive but as happy as any of them could get after losing so much.

The white, thick makeup that was being smeared across his face with a soft brush had started being applied near his eyes, and it’s chill was enough to bring Sylvain back into the present. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the cold early morning air that snuck into the previously warm tent. Then there was a finger under his chin, tipping his head back and leaving his neck exposed. A hundred situations that ended with him having a slit neck flew through his mind, but when he opened his eyes to find Felix looking down at him they disappeared in an instant. Felix, who was sitting up on the vanity, quirked a brow.

“What?” Sylvain asked, voice light and perfectly masking the lingering fear that was slowly leaving his body.

“You tensed.” Felix picked up a smaller brush and dipped it generously into the container of white makeup.

“You surprised me, I thought you were about to bite down on my neck like a vampire,” Sylvain said with a laugh, not particularly enjoying the unusual feeling of the makeup moving with his cheeks.

“I’m sure you have had plenty of girls bite down on that neck of yours, you whore,” Felix said. His eyes narrowed slightly as if thinking over what he had just said, and tipped Sylvains head back further, tracing the edges of his jawline with the brush.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, mind consumed with the thought of Felix biting him. Leaving a mark. Raking his nails down his back as he bit into the point his shoulder met his neck.  _ Ah _ , he reeled his mind back in,  _ not the best time to be thinking of such things _ . He looked to the side and focused on a weakly going candle on a table and how it’s flame danced in an unheard tune.

His mind, the traitor that it was, went back to Felix and how he had found him: a dancing blur of blue and white that had attracted a crowd of cheering people. The footsteps were light and movements were so very Felix that his painted white face did nothing to hide his identity from Sylvain. It was an art piece to rival the most beautiful paintings he’d ever seen in all his noble life. With his heart fluttering like a dead bird that was granted a second life in his chest he could do nothing but stand and watch the man he once considered his best friend dance on and on.

“Sylvain?” Felix asked, “Have you really gone and fallen asleep on me?”

“Hmm? No, no,” Sylvain answered with a dismissive wave of a hand, “Have you finished?”

“No.” His voice was as flat and dry as it had always been – well, at least since the tragedy.

“When I signed up to have you test makeup on me I didn’t agree to—,” he argued, only to be cut off.

“Shut up and let me get the edges done,” he said, pushing Sylvain’s hair back roughly and beginning to paint in the skin near his hairline.

Sylvain had taken a sharp inhale at Felix leaning in close. He could feel the soft breaths coming from the nose only an inch from his own and see the thin, nearly faded scars that decorated his beautiful face. A stray hair fell from where it was tucked behind his ear and hung in between them, and Sylvain couldn’t stop himself from putting it back. His fingers were sure to brush over skin the full time, desperate for even a brief touch like this. When he looked back into the golden eyes he couldn’t pick out what emotion they contained, which scared him to his core. At what point during their separation had he lost the ability to perfectly read Felix? How many days had it been since he had last truly known the man before him?

“Felix,” he breathed out. 

“Did I not tell you to shut up?” He moved his hand to the far side of Sylvain’s face to finish.

“Felix I’m sorry,” he said, louder than he wanted to.

That made him pause his work and stare down at Sylvain, face finally open enough to be readable. He was angry. There were other emotions too, but they were as unreadable as the ever changing tide. His knuckles were white as they gripped the edge of the vanity and it was almost possible to hear the way he grinded his teeth.

“Felix?” he asked, unable to take the intensity of the gaze.

“You don’t get to be sorry.” Felix spun away from him and began closing cans and washing used brushes. His normally precise movements were sloppy.

“Excuse me?” Voice raised and downright offended at the statement.

“None of us get to be sorry. We killed him,” Felix turned on him, which made Sylvain shrink in his seat, “We  _ killed _ him. We have no goddamn right to be sorry, don’t you get it? Take an honest look at yourself for once in your life and tell me what you see.” He grabbed the back of Sylvain’s head and shoved him towards the mirror. “Look long and hard and tell me if you have any right to apologize.”

Sylvain watched Felix’s face in the reflections for a long moment before bringing his eyes down to stare at himself with a sigh. The even and smooth layer of white makeup on his face hid the scars and stress lines that was his only real reward for being part of the war. It was a mask of who he was but also who he used to be, a way to hide everything about himself. He suddenly understood why Felix was so fond of wearing it despite the sweat he worked up while dancing and why he had suggested Sylvain put it on. This was always who he was, wasn’t it? Hiding away his emotions and pain with a smiling mask that made people cheer unconditionally. This was exactly what he was meant to be: not an entertainer but a liar.

He reached out among the tins of makeup for a red one and the nearest brush, quick to open it and quicker to apply it. Felix watched curiously as Sylvain painted a large grin across his face and then slammed down the brush with anger.

“You’re right,” he said, voice nearly breaking, “I’m not someone who is capable of truly asking for forgiveness, but I can pretend like I am. Just I can pretend that I’m happy. That my smiles are genuine and laughs mean anything. I can pretend and I ask that you do the same and act like you forgive me, for my selfish, selfish self.”

Felix’s grip on his hair tightened. “Give me one good reason that I should pity you like that.”

“Because I need you,” he answered plainly, “You hold no punches, you refuse to bullshit anyone. If you could forgive me then fuck what the world thinks. I’m happy to wear a mask and act like everything is fine for them, but for you? You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to truly trust.”

“Sounds like a pretty shit reason to me,” Felix said, letting go and leaning back with a sigh, “I don’t think I shall give you the peace of mind that I certainly don’t have.”

Sylvain gave an honest laugh. The sound made Felix’s face soften near instantly.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he said, “If you had forgiven me I think I would have just left and continued my life as well, as a clown, a jester to the masses.”

“You do make quite a fool out of yourself at times,” he commented with a wry smile.

This was the Felix he knew, the one he could read as easily as he could breathe. The one with the little quirk of a smile that was ever present in his dreams.

“I’ve missed you.” He placed a hand atop the others.

“I’ve missed you too, you clown,” Felix said with a roll of his eyes, “Don’t expect me to admit that ever again though.”

“Hearing it once is enough for me.”

And from then on the two lived their lives side by side, and eventually hand in hand. The masks they wore for the outside world could be forgotten around each other, which often led to white makeup smudged on all manner of things but also meant they could finally be at peace. While they never forgave themselves or each other, they learned to live joyously even without the clown makeup to hide their true selves.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the server I love u guys! Also I hope even if u didn’t rly like the clown angle you appreciated the rest of the fic bc I tried really hard to make it serious aside from what they were doing :(


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